The Obligatory Greeting
Hello, brave souls, and welcome to my dark little corner of the world. Okay, maybe not so much dark as well-lived-in and kinda messy. But don’t tell my characters that. I assure them on the reg that my life is just as traumatic and fraught with peril as theirs. It’s the only way they won’t stage a revolt and heave the dreaded writer’s block in front of the door to Evie’s Cocktail Lounge, the cool kids’ hangout inside my brain where I try to shove those noisy buggers whenever I don’t have them playing on the page. Emphasis on the “try.” I know I’m not the only one with perma-chatter running through my noggin at all hours of the day, regardless of my other obligations and would-be-distractions. Like sleep. Yeah, what’s that again?
But you’re here to find out who I am, not to hear me blather on about the babbling buttheads who reside in my brain. Although, soon enough—as long as I don’t scare you off first—you’ll have the pleasure of meeting a few for yourself. And what a pleasure that will be, I assure you. Garrulous they may be, but they’re also quite jaunty, charming, and loveable.
Who I am and How the Bills Get Paid
Anyway, here we go! My name’s Evie Drae, although, yep, that’s a pen name. By day—okay, technically by night, because I work the graveyard shift—I’m a labor & delivery nurse. I’m also in grad school working on my Master of Science in Nursing, with a focus on Healthcare Administration.
So, unless I become the next big thing in the writing world—crosses fingers, toes, arms, legs… even braids hair—my future career requires I maintain some distance from the frolicsome, quirky, filthy-minded human you’re about to meet here. For propriety’s sake, and all that nonsense.
More Demographics for the nosy
I’m a bi/demi GQ cis female and a proud advocate for LGBTQ+ rights. My pronouns are she/her. I’m married to the love of my life, who was just as stupid excited as I was to get hitched on Halloween, 2015. Yep, that’s the kinda gal I am. Picture this: a haunted masquerade. It was killer, but not in the literal sense. Unless you count the pork rinds our fur baby, Bacchus, stole off the catering table and destroyed—while we read our vows—in an epic, crunch-tastic disaster.
Anyone wanna guess how much noise a 6lbs papillon—mind you, in full tuxedo garb—can make while chomping on one of those crispy treats? Maybe I’ll post the video someday. It was quite the extravaganza.
Why Anything I Say Holds Any Credence Whatsoever
I’ve been writing since the first grade. I used to spend my summers camped out under a golf umbrella on my driveway with a pitcher of lemonade and a notebook. Yes, this was back in the stone age when every home didn’t have a computer and kids actually “played” outside. My version of play was mildly less active than most—read: way, way less active—but at least I got fresh air. Seek those silver linings where you can, people.
Also, I’m active within the Twitter #amwriting community—come find me, I love making new friends and support my fellow writers every chance I get! In fact, I host a weekly hashtag on Thursdays for LGBTQ+ writers and allies with LGBTQ+ characters called #writeLGBTQ. Come check us out! If you’re a writer and aren’t on Twitter, whatcha waitin’ for, home skillet? Ah-maz-ing support community. I’ve met some of my nearest and dearest on there and can promise you this: I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for those ladies and gents. In addition, I’ve had the absolute pleasure to be a critique partner and to beta read for some fantabulous authors thanks to those connections. Every time I focus my attention on trying to help another writer strengthen their words, and every time one of them does the same for me, I wind up learning oodles. Seriously, “if you’re a writer and aren’t” complaint number two: don’t even think about trying to find an agent or get published if you haven’t run yourself and your book baby through the beta/CP wringer! The lessons you learn going through that process—on both ends—are life changing. I promise.
Anywho, after years of toiling away, doing my writerly thing—and “finishing” about twelve failed manuscripts I wouldn’t let my dog read, they’re so embarrassingly horrific—I’ve finally moved up a peg. And by that, I mean I’ve landed myself one of the most kick-butt agents out there—Ms. Eva Scalzo of Speilburg Literary. Sure, I’m biased, but hey… she’s done me nothing but solids since the moment I signed on the dotted line. I can’t thank her enough for bringing her brilliant charm and mega-awesome editing skills into my writerly world. We’re going to do big things together, I just know it! I’m crossing all my appendages over here this is only the beginning.